


RUSH B

by raichuxyz



Category: Counter-Strike (Video Games)
Genre: Aphrodisiacs, Drug-Induced Sex, Drugged Sex, Enemies to Lovers, Fight Sex, Gay, Gay Sex, Gun Violence, Hand Jobs, M/M, Military, Military Kink, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Terrorism, Terrorists, Video Game Mechanics, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 20:14:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23293030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raichuxyz/pseuds/raichuxyz
Summary: A Counter-Strike: Global Offensive match turns super gay. More at 11.
Relationships: Terrorist/Counter-Terrorist
Comments: 15
Kudos: 26





	RUSH B

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gabe Newell](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Gabe+Newell).



> I wrote a CS:GO one-shot. I'm proud of this, but I feel like I could have done so much more with it. I only got about halfway through the outline, and then I started getting some really intense writer's block, and it really felt like the passion I had during the first word barf just wasn't there anymore. I didn't want this to be one of the things that I put a lot of work into and never end up posting, so here it is. It feels unfinished to me but I think it's nut-worthy.

"Bomb has been planted. 40 seconds to detonation."  
There wasn't much that scared the seasoned SAS agent. As far as trauma and violence went, he had seen most of it. He'd seen corruption and infighting within the counter-terrorist forces. He'd seen terrorist attacks stopped, and he'd seen them carried out. He had seen friends die, he had seen enemies die, and he had seen plenty of innocent bystanders die. Eventually, he became jaded and closed-off, recounting his experiences only through dark jokes, and releasing pent-up stress through the barrel of his gun. But this time, something was different. Forget all the people he had seen die before. As he heard the warning on the comms that the ITF had gotten the explosive planted... for the first time, he was in danger of seeing himself die.  
He had heard that time moved in slow motion in moments like this, but it seemed like the opposite was happening. Every tiny action he took seemed like a huge decision and risk. He had trained and practiced hard, and he could reload his carbine in seconds. But how many seconds? He only had 40 of them... 35 by now.  
Quickly putting his M4 on his back in favor of a small knife, he sprinted down a long curved alley leading to the bombsite. He barely processed the AK-47 shot whizzing over his head from behind; he just took one fluid motion to grab his sidearm from his hip, whip around, and shoot the man in the head, all without stopping his movement. He subconsciously complimented himself on his own aim as he skidded around the corner and into a courtyard containing a large fountain. He saw the bomb flashing red and beeping, so close but so far away. He knew that if he tried his luck with the wires, he would get shot by the hiding separatists. Recklessly, he peered around corners, behind the crates, tried to see through the stained glass on the nearby church. He was overwhelmed. There were seven dead bodies within walking distance, and he just needed to add two more to that list. As some sort of stingy, half-assed blessing from God, one of the terrorists peered around a stack of coffins, quickly gaining a hole in his head approximately 5.56 millimeters wide.  
The agent looked back to the bomb and saw a member of his team on the ground, missing most of his leg, with his eyes rolled back in their sockets. He felt his boot splash in the puddle of blood as he took a knee to try and defuse the bomb. There was still a terrorist left, but there was no other option at this point. This bomb was just incessantly letting out electronic beeps, and they were getting faster and faster. There was no more time for fighting, civilian lives were at stake.  
Which wire to cut... is it the red one or the blue one? He remembered it was never the one they cut in movies. But which one was that? He wanted to say blue, and he moved his cutters to the red one, but then he saw out of the corner of his eye a yellow wire, a black one, a green one, and he knew that he had run out of time. He cut the red wire and nothing happened for several seconds.  
...  
So this was what heaven was like. It certainly smelled good, like cinnamon and vanilla and sunshine. And the cloudy white depictions were surprisingly correct. All around him, he saw nothing but white clouds... In fact, he couldn't see much else around him. No angels with harps- but that was okay, he wasn't a huge fan of harp music anyway. He looked under him and managed to see through the thick fluffy clouds. There was an old brick floor, and behind him was a barrel... The white gas began to clear away, revealing the bright blue sky, and he had to turn his eyes away from... Was that God? No, just the sun. He wondered where heaven was in relation to the rest of the world. Was it between earth and the sun? Doesn't that mean you would only go to heaven if you died around noon? And all the good people who died in their sleep were probably in hell? Is it just random chance? How would sunlight shine through anyway? The smoke cleared further, and he saw that the colorful stained glass windows on the church were still intact. He was beginning to suspect that he wasn't in heaven.  
Although for someone who wasn't in heaven, he was beginning to feel a warm, generally good feeling coming over him. Quickly, he realized his crotch was bulging... A hot, throbbing mass had begun to spring up. He felt the blood surging through his cock, and wasn't even surprised. Although you couldn't see it through his mask, a trance-like, excited, slightly insane look came over him. He scrabbled at his pants a little, trying to get rid of the layers between his gloved hand and his hard dick. So much Kevlar, all these zippers... He frustratedly tried to touch himself in any way he could through his pants. If these clothes could stop a bullet, they could definitely stop his hand, although he wasn't conscious enough to realize that. In a horny fugue state of sorts, he tried whatever he could, tried getting to his ass, tried shedding the armor in every way he could think of, but he had no luck. The 40-something man had trouble getting it up with his wife, and no sexual habits past that, so it was certainly new for him to be desperately clawing at his clothes in an effort to empty his balls in the blood of some dead soldiers.  
He was oblivious to the slow footsteps of a masked man approaching him from the entrance of the church. He had his guns casually holstered, and a smug smile on his face. The CT didn't care.  
"Need some help over there?", the terrorist drawled to his enemy.  
The CT threw up his hands in surrender, inviting any help he could get. He didn't care that he was supposed to murder the person standing over him, he had more important things on his empty, cum-addled mind.  
The terrorist, like a predator playing with his prey, grabbed the CT by the wrists and gently pulled him up, pinning him against the plaster wall. He removed both their masks and leaned in to sandwich the agent's body between his own and the wall, pressing one face into the other, slipping his tongue inside to exchange saliva and explore his toy's mouth. The CT's moans were satisfying and exciting, and they invited the terrorist deeper into him, the CT's tongue curling around the T's, feeling the inside of the cheek, letting himself go limp and be held in his attacker's arms as he was penetrated like this. The T slowly pulled away, now almost cradling the CT. Thick, viscous ropes of saliva strung between their tongues as he backed up, looking deep into his eyes, their pupils dilated in ecstasy.  
"Your tax dollars at work, folks." The T made himself chuckle with a soft, low murmur. "Fine, I'll give you what you need now."  
He turned the helpless soldier around to press his muscular back against his own stomach, his hard-on pressing against the agent's ass, which was surprisingly squishy even through the protective clothing. He leaned in as the CT stayed limp on him, pressing his head into his neck and biting it a little- after a little consideration, biting it a lot. His hand drifted down to undo both their belts, letting two pistols and some grenades fall to the ground with a rustling noise. One hand was around the agent's belly for support, and the other one slid down, down, down, through thick layers of who-knows-what, to the sensitive areas that the military tries hard to protect and keep sealed away from the world. His fingers pushed it all aside effortlessly and felt their way around the rock-hard vascular shaft, which throbbed and pulsed at the slightest touch, and his fingers wrapped around the heavy, full balls. He gently pulled away, which the CT protested as best as he could for the few seconds before two fingers were slid into his mouth.  
The terrorist was so close, violating the CT in so many ways. His hot breath could be felt on the agent's ear, as could the air movement as he let out a whisper that was quieter than a pin dropping but came in loud and clear to the CT.   
"Drool."  
The CT didn't have to be asked twice. He started salivating as if his captor's fingers were chocolate in his mouth, he let his lips open slightly and some of the thick clear liquid dripped down his chin, into the T's palm, onto the ground, but mostly coating and pooling around the fingers. The sweet submissive soldier let out a long, needy moan for good measure as the fingers were pulled again back out of his mouth and down to his throbbing cock, leaving a trail of slime down from the belly button. With the oozing wetness, the T could really feel each individual crevice, imperfection, and artery, not to mention each tiny movement, each pump of blood from the heart down to here, each twitch caused by the stroking of some long-forgotten sensitive zone that had been neglected for years as a result of a dying marriage and was now being rediscovered. His hand lightly slid over it all, feeling it and knowing it and conquering it.  
He leaned in farther, his breathing getting heavy to match his partner's hysteria, bit an ear, and whispered roughly "I know you want to get it all out, you're making it clear. Come on, do it. Don't hold back." With a drawn-out and overwhelmed moan that contained everything he was feeling, the CT went completely limp in the T's arms and came. He just held himself there, completely trusting the T to keep touching him and violating him as he let out a strong stream of hot white ropes that filled his underwear and oozed around his ballsack, dripped and squirted onto the T's fingers as he relentlessly stroked him, it lubricated his cock and somehow made the experience even more intense as the cum made every touch feel even better.

**Author's Note:**

> If you really like it and want me to finish it (there was gonna be gun-play then two blowjobs), let me know in a comment. It's not like I have anything better to do, I'm quarantined haha.


End file.
